


My Brother the Martyr

by Jaysop



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Belly Rubs, Caretaking, Caring!Cas, Caring!Sam, Cas is very worried, Crying, Dean is miserable, Emetophilia, Fever, Fluff, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sick!Dean, Sickfic, Suffering, Vomiting, Whump, Wincestiel I guess??, because I'm stuck writing him that way, emeto, human!Cas, lots and lots of comfort, they all love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 01:32:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14739566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaysop/pseuds/Jaysop
Summary: Dean won't admit when he needs help. Ever. Cas and Sam are there for him despite his foolish pride.





	My Brother the Martyr

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Remy_Etienne_Creed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remy_Etienne_Creed/gifts).



> Remy_Etienne_Creed asked:  
> If I could make a request for the next one tho...could you do one that focuses on Dean? Like I feel like he’s always on his own when he’s sick while the others get taken care of. Maybe one where Dean is driving as always and all of a sudden gets really, really sick? And he tries not to let the others on and it’s super obvious. He’s maybe super embarrassed but Sam and Cas are just like, you always take care of us let us take care of you? And Sam has to drive them with Dean like passed out in the back, tossing and turning and waking up every so often to throw up or try to? I would write it myself but I’m so shy of writing the more intense details. Bonus points for Dean’s head being in Cas’s lap and he just strikes thru Dean’s sweaty hair. Pretty please????
> 
> jaysop:  
> I loved everything about this idea and I had to take my time with it. But I think its turned out to be my favorite thing I've written since coming back to the fandom. This is for you, Remy, who supported my writing from the very beginning. I hope you enjoy it!

***

Dean was starting to get loopy.

He had lost time.  He wasn't sure how much but it was gone, somewhere between Cas clearing his throat and the incesant drone of Sam’s snoring coming from the back seat.

Reality hit like a punch in the throat. Dean was glad some part of him had paid attention to the road. He was still in his lane. That was a win.

It was too quiet. That was the problem. It was hard to stay focused without any music, that’s all it was. And if he was being honest with himself, he was half past exhausted. Not that their last hunt had been overly difficult. He had been dragging ass long before all that, and barely hiding it. It seemed like the past few weeks had finally caught up.

Dean stretched and sighed and blinked at the road. It looked the same as it did before his brain went M.I.A. The same long, impossibly straight, flat stretch of Midwest highway traveling dead ahead disappearing into the horizon.

"Are you alright?" Cas' voice, sudden and too deep, brought Dean back to earth.

"Yeah. I'm good."

An eyebrow was raised. Eyes were narrowed. "I highly doubt that."

"I said I'm good, Cas. Why don't you take a cue from sleeping beauty back there."

Sam was laid out in the back seat. He didn’t look comfortable by any stretch of the imagination but Dean hoped maybe he was finally getting some much earned rest. By the sounds of it he was.

Cas had dozed for most of the ride but he was wide awake now, excited to be riding shotgun for a change, although he was having a hard time staying still in his seat.

“Getting antsy?”  

Cas tilted his head. Before he could say anything Dean came back with, “Antsy, it’s like fidgety, you know Cas? Like stir crazy.” A nod of understanding from Cas.  “Hey, I’m right there with ya.”

Sam made a small disturbed sound and rolled onto his side and instinctively Dean stopped talking. He knew Sam hadn’t slept for more than a few minutes here and there the entire trip. His own exhaustion could be pushed aside but Sam deserved some rest. He deserved a real bed too where he could spread out but this was the best Dean could do at the moment. 

Cas was quiet too, and now strangely aware of his movements. He caught a yawn from Dean.

“Get some sleep, Cas. I’ll wake you when I find somewhere to stop.”

Cas considered it. He wasn’t tired but perhaps he could sleep, maybe just out of sheer boredom, an odd concept. He crossed his arms and sat back in his seat.

Dean yawned again and Cas followed suite. The road was still the same, same corn field, Dean thought, same group of cows, same telephone wires that crisscrossed the straight, flat and utterly boring landscape.

Now being mindful of both his passengers, Dean was alone with just his thoughts. And that was a terrifying prospect. He took a deep breath in through his nose and blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

“I don’t think I require anymore rest,” Cas said, his attempt at a whisper mostly failing.

“Yeah, well I could definitely use a nap,” Dean said through another yawn.

“I could drive if you--” 

“No.”

Cas settled back in his seat defeated, but not surprised. He watched the highway unfold in front of them, and then settled on watching Dean instead, a far more interesting past time.

The older Winchester looked tired, hunched forward in his seat, eyes squinting at the road. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, made prominent by the glow of dash lights.

Sam stirred again. Dean glanced in the rearview to see his brother scrunch his face and turn in his sleep.

Dean had suspected the nightmares were back, he just hadn’t seen them in action yet. The signs were all there. All the times he had caught Sam still up in the early hours of the morning, on his laptop, alone in the dark. Or the times he woke to the creak of Sam’s heavy footsteps in the hall. He had investigated a few times, under the guise of getting some juice from the fridge. Sam never wanted to talk about it and usually covered it with some bullshit about a lead that he had to follow up on. But Dean knew better. He knew he hadn’t just woke up. Sam just never went to bed to begin with.

There was a myriad of things that could be going on behind Sam’s fluttering eyelids. Dean didn’t want to guess which horror was currently torturing his brother, but he had a few ideas.

Sam whimpered and drew the attention of Cas who immediately turned and reached into the back seat. Cas was no stranger to nightmares either. The hours it took to explain it all to Cas the first time he woke up in a cold sweat had made Dean’s head hurt.

“Sam!”

Cas grabbed Sam’s knee and shook him awake. He opened his eyes and gasped.

“You were having a nightmare,” Cas said, still protectively holding on to Sam’s leg.

Sam sat up. His hair was smushed to the side of his face, damp with sweat. He blinked at Cas who grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

“M’fine, Cas,” Sam managed squeezing back. His eyes slowly adjusted and he cleared his throat before, “We still in North Dakota?”

Dean didn’t answer at first, mostly because he wasn’t entirely sure. He had reached that level of tired that started to hurt right behind his eyes.

“Dunno,” Dean managed between a few coughs. He cracked his window and the cool night air filtered in.

Cas had finally let go of Sam but was keeping a watchful eye on him. He was very sympathetic about it, especially having experienced the terror and helplessness of a nightmare first hand. He had wondered many times how both brothers could shake them off so easily.

“It wasn’t real,” Cas said, his voice low. It caught Sam off guard.

“I know, Cas,” Sam said, “I’m ok.”

Dean coughed again and wordlessly Sam handed him a water bottle from the back seat. He had to tap his shoulder with it a few times before Dean reacted and took it from him.

Dean chugged half the bottle before coming up for air. He started to drift off the road until Cas reached over and steadied the wheel.

Normally, that would have warranted several curses in Cas’ direction and maybe a smack on the top of his hand, but Dean just blinked his eyes at the road and muttered a soft, “Oh shit,” before jerking the wheel. The little shot of adrenaline made his stomach flip.

“You’re exhausted,” Cas said taking the water from him.

“I’m good, Cas ok, cool it.”

“I’m done sleeping. Maybe forever. I can drive,” Sam offered.

“Nah, Sammy, you need to rest.”

“No really, I’m good,” Sam insisted. “Here’s an idea. Maybe let other people help you once in a while?”

Dean met his brother’s eyes again in the rearview. He grumbled but stopped to consider it. He was starting to feel like grade-A shit and when did it get so stuffy in here? Dean cleared his throat and coughed up something thick that he instinctively swallowed. That was a bad idea.

In a flurry of gravel and slipping tires Dean pulled off the road and flung his door open. His stomach lurched and he heaved, head hanging between his legs, nothing coming up but air. Dean panted and spit onto the pavement followed but a few sick sounding burps.

Sam was already out of the backseat.

“Hey, you ok?”  

Dean gagged hard and spilled his guts out along the roadside. Sam took a half step back to avoid the inevitable splatter onto the cuffs of his jeans. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Ugh…fuck.”

Dean managed the strangled words between a few more gasps. He gagged and brought up the rest of the water, tinged with something brown. Maybe coffee. He had had a lot of it in the past 24 hours. His stomach insisted on another heave and Dean felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

Sam knelt down and cupped the side of Dean’s face as his head lolled. He finally looked up at him, eyes full of unshed tears, his mouth gaping open.

“It’s ok,” Sam said feeling the heat of his brother’s skin. Dean closed his eyes and focused on Sam’s touch.

“…don’t feel so good, Sammy.”

Cas had gotten out too. He was standing behind Sam, brow furrowed with concern.

It took the combined effort of both of them to lift Dean and get him settled, against his will, in the back seat of the Impala. There were a few more abortive heaves out the door before Cas slid into the seat next to him.

Dean moaned, gripping the plastic bag Sam had given him. He was dizzy and uncomfortable and not completely sure he was done being sick.

“I offered to drive before,” Cas said attempting another whisper to Sam.

“It’s ok, Cas. This isn’t your fault.” Sam said. “I think he’s coming down with something. He's always pushing himself too hard.”

“I can hear you,” Dean said from the back seat punctuating his words with a wet burp at the end.

“I’m stopping at the next motel I see,” Sam said, and then over his shoulder, “Tell me to pull over if you need to...you know.”

“Mmf…yeah ok.”

And then to Cas, “Keep an eye on him.”

***

Cas took his duty of watching over Dean very sincerely. He had coaxed him into lying down, and Dean had finally settled after a fair amount of protest. Cas had shed his coat and laid it over Dean like a blanket, hoping it would stop him from shivering. Every little whimper and Cas was carding fingers through Dean's sweat soaked hair, whispering things to him that Sam couldn’t make out.

It was Cas who signaled to Sam to pull over when Dean roused from his sleep and lurched forward with a heave. They were both out of the car again, the keys still ringing in the ignition, scrambling to get Dean to plant his feet on the pavement before he puked.

“Ugh…” another burp came up and before he really knew what was happening a gag followed.

Sam was holding him up, slightly repulsed by the feel of Dean’s sweat soaked shirt. He was running a fever, no way to tell how high, but it made him shiver in the cool night air.

Dean’s head hung low and a long line of salvia dangled from his open mouth. An abrupt gag brought up bile and the dregs of the early evening’s coffee, some of it ending up on his shirt.

“Dean!”

Cas was frantic as Dean swayed, the pull of unconsciousness becoming too much for him to resist. He tipped forward and Cas caught him around the waist pulling him back inside the car.

“S’ fuckin cold,” he managed, shoulders trembling.

Cas was examining him now, a hand pushed up under the fringe of his hair.

“I believe he has a fever,” Cas said looking up at Sam for approval.

Sam nodded. He set his jaw, trying to work out the best course of action. Dean gagged again and it was followed by a long moan, and when nothing else came up a feeble, “Sammy...”

“I’m right here,” Sam said a protective hand touched to Deans cheek, half kneeling to get close enough to hear him.

He couldn’t manage anything else, and finally leaned back against Cas, eyes tipped closed, breathe ragged.

Sam lifted his brother’s legs back into the car and Cas adjusted so Dean could lay across his lap.

“Dean, try to rest,” Cas said as Dean curled into his side. “I will watch over you.”

Sam couldn’t help a small smile. Dean, sick as hell, had an angel in the backseat vowing to watch over him. And somehow it was the most natural thing in the world. This was their life. This was their normal.

“Cas, I think he’s probably um...empty,” Sam said trying not to think too much about it. He had snapped into caretaking mode and it was currently overruling his normal reaction to this type of situation. He still didn’t want to talk about it. Sam swallowed back against the tightness in his throat.

“Yes, I think so,” Cas said. “We can go.”

There was something desperate in the way Dean clung to him. Cas felt his forehead and winced. Dean was radiating heat, so close to Cas that he had to loosen his tie and undo the first two buttons on his shirt. After a glance in the rearview Sam cracked his window just enough for some fresh air to filter into the car.  

“He’s very sick,” Cas said, holding Dean protectively to his side. “It happened so fast.”

“No it didn’t,” Sam said, “He’s been feeling like shit since we left Minnesota.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “But he seemed fine. How did you--”

“You have to know how to speak Dean.  ’M’fine Sammy,’ really means ‘I’m silently suffering because I’m too proud to admit I need help’.” Sam said lowering his voice and doing his best Dean impression.

Cas tilted his head. “You’re being sarcastic.”

“No, no. I’m dead serious,” Sam said, “He pushes everyone away because he doesn’t want to be a burden. And he keeps going, and he won’t stop. Not until something _makes_ him stop.”

“Yes,” Cas sighed, “That does describe him.”

Sam laughed but it was dark. “And you know why he does it?”

“…can _still_ hear you,” Dean said from the depths of the backseat.

Cas shushed him, a cool hand on the side of his face. Dean was too feverish to protest. Cas pulled him closer and started rubbing his back.

“Because he doesn’t care about himself,” Sam said his voice low. “My brother, the martyr.”

Cas looked down at Dean, watching as his face grimaced in pain. He tried to lift himself up on an elbow. Lying down in the moving car was starting to add motion sickness to the mix. Cas shouldered his weight, lifting him to a sitting position. His head lolled to the side and soon all his weight was propped against Cas’ shoulder. Dean moaned as he fought through a rolling wave of dizziness.

“Yet, we do the same for him,” Cas said, “Don’t we?”

“Yeah Cas, I guess we do.”

Dean had went pale. His cheeks billowed with a few little abortive gags. Cas put the plastic bag back into his hands, making sure he positioned in under his chin. For now he just alternated between spiting into it and burping up more air.

Trying his best to ignore the sounds coming from his brother, Sam started to slip into the easy rhythm of the highway. He had rolled the window down much more now, swearing he smelled vomit even though Dean was still only dry heaving.

Unfortunately, his brother was too loud to ignore. Every gag ended in a very vocal sounding retch. Cas was talking him through it, telling him to breathe, and rubbing his back as he struggled through a few more dry heaves. The last time he gagged it was deeper, wrenching up the very bottom of his stomach contents into the bag. His moans gurgled through the slurry of puke.

“It fuckin’ burns…” Dean mumbled in between spitting out bile. After a few more false alarms he laid his head back and sighed, a hand coming to rest lightly on his stomach.

Trying to drive as smoothly as possible, Sam led them through the night. Sitting up must had helped Dean’s nausea subside because he was either sleeping now or unconscious. Either way he was resting and Cas was able to take the bag from him and tie it up, discarding it on the floor for now.

 “How is he?” Sam asked when Dean moaned and turned in his sleep.

“I think he has the influenza virus,” Cas said very bluntly. Sam glanced in the rearview and saw Cas’ face in all his seriousness. “I’ve seen it before. It’s deadly.”

Sam clenched his jaw. Sometimes he forgot that Cas had been around when the flu actually decimated whole populations. Now his careful monitoring of his brother’s decline had an even deeper meaning. Sure the flu could be serious, but Sam knew Dean would get through it. Cas on the other hand had been worried for Dean’s life.  

“He’ll be alright, Cas. Things have um…modern medicine has made advancements--”

“M’not dying yet,” Dean said, his voice sounding shredded. “Just feels like I am.”

Cas felt his cheek, still too hot, the side of his face slicked with sweat. Dean sighed. He closed his eyes and let Cas hold him.

“Dean…” Cas said, his tone soft. “Don’t try to talk. You need to rest.”

Sam couldn’t help glancing in the mirror as Cas cradled his brother in his arms, slowly rubbing up and down his side. Between boughts of nausea Dean caught a few minutes of sleep, his angel still watching over him. When he would start awake Cas was there, making sure he kept the plastic bag under his chin until the urge to vomit passed again.

Just over the horizon, a green sign formed out of the roadway. Sam laid on the gas until he was close enough to see the symbols for gas and lodging. He sped up and took the turn off, practically drifting around the corner.

***

The harsh glow of neon greeted them when Sam threw the car in park. He had been a little too heavy on the break apparently because Dean had flung open his door before they even stopped and promptly vomited in the parking lot. After a few muttered curses Dean caught his breath, letting Sam pull him from the wreckage.

“I’ll go get us a room,” Cas said leaving the brothers in the parking lot.

“You ok?” Sam asked as Dean steadied himself against the car door. He coughed and spit out a mouthful of saliva.

“Just peachy.”

His head was swimming. Sam had to catch him around the waist and hoist him back up when he almost dropped to his knees. Thankfully, Cas returned with their room keys.

“I got us a double,” Cas said, his brow lowered at the sight of Dean, pale and sweating. 

As soon as they made it inside Dean made a mad dash for the bathroom, collapsing in front of the toilet. He barely had enough time to lift the lid before his stomach rebelled.

“Ugh…fuck me…”

Cas finished bringing in their bags while Sam paced outside the bathroom door, listening to the loud painful retches coming from inside.  

“This is bad,” Cas said dropping a duffle at the edge of the bed.

Sam was on his phone. “There’s a gas station near here with a quickmart. I’ll stay with him. Do you think you can make a supply run?”

“Of course,” Cas said, picking up on the worry in Sam’s voice. And then, “Take care of him, Sam.”

Sam sat on the bed nearest the bathroom, wanting to give Dean some privacy but still wanting to be close by. He winced at the sounds coming from behind the only partially closed door -- deep guttural retching, the spilling of liquids violently splashing into water. When he started to detect the sounds of Dean actually crying, he threw the whole privacy thing out the window and opened the door.

“Dean? You ok in there?”

He had broken down, and in between gags tears came. Sam closed the door behind him and knelt next to his brother.

“Sammy,” Dean said a gag cutting off his words, “…it hurts. Hurts real bad.”

Sam reached over his brother and flushed the toilet so he wasn’t staring into his own sick. He fumbled with unwrapping the plastic cup on the sink and then filled it with water.

“Here, rinse and spit.”

Dean did as he was told and coughed harshly afterwards. He pushed away from the toilet and leaned back against the tub, his mouth hanging open, panting. Dean’s skin was ghostly pale, eyes rimmed dark and sunken. His clothes were sweat soaked, the damp making him shiver.

Sam held a wash cloth under the tap and rang it out. He laid the cloth across his brother’s eyes.

“Mmm…feels good.”

Sam sat beside him, his body coming down with a soft thud. Dean rallied for a moment when he realized his brother was close and then let his head rest on Sam’s shoulder. Waves of heat radiated from him and fueled Sam’s growing concern.

“If you think you’re done, there’s a bed in there with your name on it,” Sam coaxed. “Cas got us a double.”

“Fancy,” Dean muttered nestling closer to Sam, a hand gripping at his shirt. Dean always got clingy when he was sick.  

A gurgle emanated from Dean’s stomach, low and drawn out and he doubled over, the wash cloth falling into his lap.

“Ok,” Sam said guiding him back over the toilet. “It’s alright, D. It’ll pass.”

Dean gritted his teeth and scrunched his eyes shut as a cramp tore through his already strained stomach muscles. “Son of a bitch…” he managed before he leaned forward and gagged.

Not much came up but that made it even more painful. He coughed and spit out the sour taste of stomach acid. Tears that he had absolutely no control over leaked from the corners of his eyes.

Still trying to catch his breath and waiting for his sour stomach to settle, Dean laid his head on the rim of the toilet, cool porcelain soothing his fevered skin. Sam was close, a hand at his back, rubbing circles in the space between Dean’s shoulder blades.

“Mmf…Sammy…really don’t feel good…”

“I know,” Sam said trying to soothe him, “I know.”

Dean let out a belch followed by a pitiful low moan. He closed his eyes as a wave of nausea washed over him giving him chills. Sam was there to see him through it, a large hand coming to rest on Dean’s abused stomach, hoping the pressure would relieve some of the cramping. He rubbed gently and pulled a sigh from Dean.

The muscles underneath his palm tensed and spasmed as Dean gagged suddenly. The sound of his retching echoed off the insides of the toilet, and then the sound of a lost whimper.

“Oh Dean, it’s alright,” Sam whispered.

Dean coughed again and then pushed back into his brother’s arms. Sam gathered him up and made the decision to carry him out to the bed. Awkwardly he navigated through the door frame and laid Dean out on the bed closest to the bathroom. Dean shivered, the motion of being carried forcing another wave of nausea to wash over him.

Sam took all the pillows off the bed and stacked them behind Dean, guiding him to sit up. He placed the room’s small trash bin on the bedside table and then climbed beside his brother who immediately curled against him.

“It’s ok,” Sam said holding him, “Cas is gonna come back with some supplies. Then we’ll get you feeling better.”

Dean shivered and clung to Sam’s waist. He reached underneath his brother’s shirt and foraged until he hit warm skin. Sam was slightly repulsed when Dean’s cold clammy palms made contact.

“Alright,” Sam said detaching himself from Dean’s grip. “You stay here. I’m gonna get you some ice to chew on.”

“Sammy, come on, don’t go,” Dean pleaded halfheartedly. “S’fucking cold in here. Don’t want ice.”

“This from with the man with the raging fever,” Sam muttered, searching the dresser for the key card and grabbing the ice bucket.

“Sammy…”

“Two minutes,” Sam said leaving Dean in the room alone.

***

Outside the night was cool, the glow of neon making patterns on the wet pavement. At the ice machine Sam found a vending machine as well that just happened to have some ginger ale. Ice and ginger ale in hand, he started back to their room, stopping only when Baby’s headlights crested the hill and turned towards the motel’s parking lot.

Sam walked over to Cas who was already out of the car, loading grocery bags onto his arm.

“Hey,” Sam said taking the weight of a few bags. “Cas, what did you buy?”

“Well, there wasn’t much but I think I got everything we needed,” Cas said arms laden down with grocery bags.

“Ok,” Sam smiled, “It just seems like a lot.”

“Sam,” Cas said in all seriousness, “Dean has _influenza_.”

“We don’t know for sure if that’s what it is. And Cas, I tried to tell you before, he’ll be ok—

“Yes. He will.” Cas interrupted. “I bought tea, and real honey.”

They had reached the door and Sam fumbled with his key card. “You did?”

Cas nodded.

Sam opened the door to reveal a sick and shivery Dean, leaning halfway off the bed with his face buried in the trash bin. Cas immediately dropped all of his bags on the floor and rushed over.

“Dean,” Cas said protectively grabbing him around the shoulders, “Sam, he’s burning up.”

Sam brought the ice over to Dean’s bedside.

“Hey,” he said touching Dean’s arm, “Still feeling queasy?”

“What do you think,” Dean managed from somewhere inside the bin.

Sam filled a plastic cup with chards of ice and waited for his brother to relinquish the bin. He offered the cup in exchange.

“Sammy, don’t want that…” Dean said, his eyes half open, loopy with fever.

“You are suffering from dehydration,” Cas said, a hand pushed up under the fringe of Dean’s hair to gauge his temperature.

“M’fine Cas, lay off me,” he said fighting weakly.

“Cas is right,” Sam said offering the ice again.

Knowing when he was outnumbered, Dean took the ice and popped a piece into his mouth letting it melt in his cheek.

“Happy?”

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed. “You’re a jerk when you’re sick, you know that?”

Dean crunched the ice and sank down inside his misery.

Satisfied with that, Cas started unpacking. He had bought out the store – several bottles of various colored Gatorade, 3 cans of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup that had likely been around to see the Reagan administration, cherry flavored antacids, Pepto, a dusty box of mint tea and a bear shaped bottle of real honey with a sticker that read “Local”.

“Wow,” Sam said.

“What?”

Cas started loading the mini-fridge with bottles.

Dean let out a long moan. Sam focused his attention on him, a protective hand placed on his thigh. He was breathing fast, beads of sweat breaking across his hairline. Cas finished what he was doing and dragged the room's only chair close to Dean’s bedside.

“Cas, he’s ok. It’s just a little stomach bug. He’ll be alright.”

“No,” Dean mumbled, jaw tensed, “M’dying.”

Sam rolled his eyes and watched for the next few minutes as Cas hovered over his brother. His concern was genuine and touching. Sam sighed and busied himself with unlacing Dean’s heavy boots and pulling them off, each landing on the floor with a thud.

Next he rummaged through Dean’s duffle searching for something more comfortable and preferably clean for his brother to change into. Comfortable he had. Clean he did not.

“Come on, D. Gotta get some dry clothes on you,” Sam said.

Dean was having none of it. He protested weakly, pulling away from Sam. “No Sammy…just let me die…”

Sam looked to Cas. “Little help?”

It took the two of them to strip Dean of his sweat soaked shirt, peeling it from him like a layer of disgusting skin.  Dean moaned and trembled violently exposed to the air.

A shirt was slipped over Dean’s head and it smelled of Sam’s body wash. He wrapped arms around himself realizing it was one of Sam’s old sweatshirts. While Dean was distracted his jeans were peeled off his as well, with some difficulty, and his own plaid pajama bottoms took their place.

“Smells like you…” Dean said finally, looking lazily up at his brother.

“Yeah well, trust me it was the better option,” Sam said claiming his spot on the bed next to Dean. “When’s the last time you did laundry?”

Dean didn’t answer. His eyes were closed and he was breathing in the scent of his brother, soft and soothing. He rolled on his side and curled underneath his arm for added warmth.

“Ok,” Sam said letting Dean rest his head against his chest. “It’s ok.”

Cas brought the thin sheet from the opposite bed and covered them both with it. He sat back down in his chair and kept a silent vigil.

***

It was several hours before Dean woke with a start and a half strangled “Trash can… _trash can!_ ”

Cas snapped awake and handed it to him. Dean lurched forward with a vocal gag that sounded like it was ripping out his soul.

“Oh god…” he mumbled.

Right on its heels another retch came and Dean swore it ripped open his throat. His ribs burned and ached with the effort. Dean swallowed convulsively between gasps until it was over.

Sam had his arm around him, holding him. He dabbed at the sides of his face with the back of his sleeve. He had already sweated completely through his change of clothes, skin ashen and sickly pale.

“You’re ok,” Sam cooed, rubbing his back through another dry heave. “Try to breathe.”

Dean pushed the trashcan away and settled back against his brother. “…fuck…”

“You’re not gonna like it,” Sam said, warm breath in Dean’s hair, “But I think you need to drink something.”

Dean groaned.

“Hear me out. At least if you get sick again you’ll have something to bring up.”

“Dean,” Cas was offering a foam cup of cooled tea he had made hours ago, “Just a sip. Please.”

Dean gave in. He took a few cautious sips, Cas holding the cup for him and tilting it back. The first sip ended in a fit of coughing but stayed down. It felt good on his abused throat and prompted him to drink more.

“That’s it,” Sam said still close by his side. “That’s probably enough for now.”

Dean let out a rather loud belch and settled back next to Sam, until he had wormed his way back underneath his brother’s arm. Hoping Dean would sleep for the rest of the night, Cas clicked off all the lights but one, a dim glow emanating from underneath the bathroom door.

Sam laid on his back, Dean nestled at his side, arm flung across his chest. He rubbed the length of his back, covered in Sam’s oversized sweatshirt and whispered shushes to him, lulling him to sleep.

***

Sam woke again to the sounds of Dean bringing up the tea into the trashcan. He moaned in between each heave, exhausted and weak.

“Hey, why didn’t you wake me?” Sam asked his hand on the back of Dean’s neck. Suddenly his back arched into another painful heave and Dean buried his face in the bin.

“…tried to…” Dean said gasping, vomit dripping from his lips.  

Cas was sound asleep, slumped over in the chair, his arms crossed. Sam whispered as not to wake him.

“You ok?” He asked, checking Dean over. The fever seemed to have broken during the night. He was still warm but no longer on fire. He wasn’t shivering, although his shoulders trembled when he gagged, sharp pain burning hot in his sides.

“…do I look ok to you?” Dean said, a gag cutting off his words and coming up dry.

Dean wrapped an arm around his middle and whimpered. Every part of him ached, from his head to his ribs.

“Hey, you’re ok,” Sam soothed, placing a kiss to Dean’s clammy forehead.

“Mmm…Sam…what’s up with Cas?” Dean asked finally aware of his surroundings. Sam smiled.

“He’s never seen you this sick, not like I have. He was really worried.”

“Looks like he’s all tuckered out,” Dean said settling back against the pillows.

Cas stirred slightly in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible. The second bed remained untouched, except for the sheet Cas had pulled from it to cover Dean earlier.

Dean rolled on his side and looked up at Sam, messy hair in his eyes, sleep still lingering on his face. “…thank you.”

Sam narrowed his eyes, “Seriously, Dean, you don’t have to thank me. I’m your brother. Pretty sure taking care of your ass is in my job description.”

Dean closed his eyes again and nestled close under Sam’s chin. He took a deep breath in and held his brother’s scent deep in his lungs.

“Thank you…for taking care a me, Sammy.” He mumbled, already letting the pull of sleep take him under.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Sam said pulling him close, wrapping long arms around him.

***

The morning broke to the sounds of microwave chimes. A cup of still brewing mint tea was brought over to Dean and placed on the bedside table. Cas stopped him from trying it until it had cooled and then gave the honey in the bottom of the foam cup a stir first.

“Not too fast,” Cas coaxed.

He sat next to Dean who was looking somewhat better in the light of day. He still felt queasy but the fever was down and he had managed to keep some liquids in him for now. Sam packed their bags and started removing Cas’ hoard of Gatorade from the fridge.

“I hope you like lemon-lime,” Sam said glancing over his shoulder. Cas and Dean were lost in their own moment, Dean taking small sips of tea and managing a weak smile, and Cas watching over him, adoration bright in his eyes.

“Geez, you two need a moment alone or?”

Dean looked over the rim of his cup, “Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam said back.

“You seem to be feeling better,” Cas said, touching Dean’s cheek to feel his temperature.

“I’m ok Cas, quit it,” Dean lied. He was far from ok, and he made no promises that he wasn’t going to need to pull over every few miles, but he had some of his fight back. Cas took it as a good sign.

“Check out was like 20 minutes ago,” Sam said, “We should get back on the road.”

Cas shouldered most of Dean’s weight and helped him to his feet. Dean groaned as his sore muscles screamed at him to stop using them.

“Alright,” Dean said steadying himself against Cas and getting halfway out the door, “Keys?”

Cas and Sam, without hesitation, responded in unison.

“ _No._ ”

***

**Author's Note:**

> This took me a long while but I'm really happy with it and so glad to release it into the world. I would love to hear what y'all thought. Thank you for reading :)
> 
> Tumblr:  
> [jaysop](jay-sop.tumblr.com)  
> [little known secret](little-known-secret.tumblr.com)


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